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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277045">Fading Trauma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271'>TransformersG1fan271</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I like to imagine they became friends :)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:55:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob Frye still suffers from being hypnotized by Enzio Capelli. Luckily, he had Charles Dickens to count on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fading Trauma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Charles Dickens was never one to be described as gentle, at least not in the traditional sense. Sure, he could console the occasional child or distraught woman, but for the most part, he remained to himself. One to be found tucked away in a bar with his papers and ink, not out and about with the populace if he didn’t need to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet tonight, he found himself a passenger of an ever-running train. It was an infamous train, belonging to the Rooks and their growing force of twin leaders Jacob and Evie Frye. It was a remarkable engine, Charles had to admit, and their bar was a rich sight to the eyes. The car was closed off to the cool London air, and Charles currently sat inside the enclosed booth with a warm bottle of brandy. However, he wasn’t writing or sharing tales this night, as he would often do with the company. He spoke softly of older works and his daily routine, taking the occasional sip as he observed the other across from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jacob Frye was rarely a quiet man. In almost every instance Charles had seen him, Jacob was quick with a quip or laugh, Rooks crowded around the Assassin with their own laughs. Tonight Jacob had hardly spoken a word after inviting the writer aboard, which didn’t surprise the older man. Tonight was one of several since the whole Enzio Capelli incident, the hypnotist long since sent away to prison for his crimes. Yet, despite that certainty, his effects were long-lasting. Charles had been able to withdraw most of Capelli’s hold, but the other had been a much more skilled hypnotist than Charles had anticipated. Jacob sometimes would be affected by the trigger phrase Capelli had instilled, having attacked those aboard the train multiple times. The younger Frye looked exhausted, running on little to no sleep in a poor attempt to prevent himself from harming someone yet again. As far as he was aware, Charles was one of a few to see Jacob at his most reserved, and as such handled the privilege with care. An hour later, Jacob was stretched out as much as he could in the booth, Charles fetching him a blanket to bring as much comfort as he could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rest now young Jacob.” The Assassin grumbled but gratefully drew the blanket close around himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Charlie, now off with you and your nagging.” The remark lacked its usual bite, exhaustion leaking from every word that spilled from Jacob’s lips. Charles sat at the bar and pulled out some notes from his previous day. It wasn’t long before he was inside his own mind, stitching words together to make beautiful works before something leaning heavily onto himself snapped the elder man back to reality. Jacob had freed himself from the booth and now sat beside Charles, eyes glossy with exhaustion. At first, the writer thought that Jacob was perhaps sleepwalking until he heard a quiet sigh coming from the younger man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The worst part is...is I can’t trust my own ‘ead Charlie.” Jacob’s eyes seemed to be trained on the bar counter, eyes drooping only to snap open when the carriage would give a shake. “Is...its the worst thing...and no one believes me.” Dickens couldn’t help the frown that crossed his face, knowing what Jacob was referring to. Evie, his own blood, had mocked Jacob for what he had down, touting she would have never let such a thing happen to herself. It had been strange to see such a remark, but Charles had kept his thoughts to himself. Said words had been the worst part of Jacob’s recovery, and with a soft sigh, Charles moved so his arm rested around Jacob’s shoulders. For a moment, the only noises were the clacking of the train on the tracks, and the creak of the carriage shifting back and forth. If one were to peer inside, it would look like a father was comforting his son, Jacob’s head now leaning against Charle’s shoulder. The writer was speaking aloud, seemingly to no one, yet the words soothed the Assassin into a proper sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning Jacob would wake and slip away, and Charles would set about into the city for a pub to take up residence. Charles would return soon, be it that very day or once a week from now, but it never bothered him in the slightest to help Jacob Frye. It was strange, but in this world of progress, Templar’s and Assassin’s, it was enough for them. </span>
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